


it's about the passing of measures, it's about life's little pleasures

by thimbleoflight



Category: The Night Circus - Erin Morgenstern
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 00:36:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8511940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thimbleoflight/pseuds/thimbleoflight
Summary: It's difficult to tell a story that one doesn't know, but Isobel is willing to learn.





	

**Author's Note:**

> DONALD TRUMP JUST GOT ELECTED SO I'M GOING TO MAKE EVERYTHING!! GAY!!!!!!! A tiny protest, because I can't get out to actual protests here. Plus this has been in my computer for a long time. I have written more. I have not finished this.
> 
> Title is from Gregory and the Hawk's "Voice Like a Bell."

Isobel flipped the cards over for Tsukiko, on one of the rare occasions that Tsukiko came to her tent. Not a complicated reading, just three cards: past, present, and future.

She was aware of Tsukiko’s eyes on her, rather than the cards.

Past: six of cups, reversed. Present: the hanged man. Future: six of swords.

The picture began to form in her mind.

“Do you look for similarities?” said Tsukiko.

“Yes, that’s part of it,” said Isobel. Ordinarily she didn’t like people asking for how she read the cards, but since Tsukiko was sort of a friend—another behind-the-scenes figure of the circus, she didn’t mind.

“Sixes,” said Tsukiko. “And twelve, twice-six.”

“Yes,” said Isobel. “Interpersonal support and knowledge, that’s the domain of the sixes.”

Tsukiko smiled.

“That’s nice. I like that.”

“A girl and a boy,” said Isobel, pointing to the first card, where a young couple, surrounded by flowers, shared a kiss. “You miss him. I’m sorry.”

Tsukiko snorted.

“Her.”

Isobel blushed.

“Sorry, I didn’t—”

“There’s no room for me in your cards,” said Tsukiko, gently. “I understand.”

“You are too kind,” said Isobel. “Had I looked more carefully, I would have seen. The cards can only tell me the stories I already know.”

“Is that a story you know?”

Tsukiko, with the placid contortionist’s smile on her face, sent a shiver up Isobel’s spine. Isobel took a deep breath, and adjusted.

“Did you have divinatory methods in—where you’re from?”

“Not like this,” said Tsukiko, waving her arm over the cards. Isobel was suddenly, _blindingly_ jealous of how well Tsukiko had recovered from the moment, while Isobel found herself struggling to concentrate on Tsukiko’s words, something nameless and frightening seeming to open up before her in the curve of Tsukiko’s lips and soft, dark eyes, how small her hands were.

“I see,” Isobel managed.

“Not so specific in the way that these are. There was a system, to do with the calendar and directions. My—friend,” she said, smiling halfheartedly and gesturing at the six of cups, “could do it beautifully. It was banned recently. Too superstitious.”

“Oh,” said Isobel. “I’m sorry.”

“Tell me about the rest of the cards,” said Tsukiko.

Isobel told her the story of the hanged man, how the destruction of self brings new life. How it bridged the gap between the human and the divine, and it bridged the middle of the major arcana, which told a story of its own.

“I don’t believe in a divine,” said Tsukiko.

“That’s okay,” said Isobel. “I don’t either.”

“And the last card?” asked Tsukiko.

Isobel looked at the woman and the man pushing off in the boat full of swords.

“A departure,” she said, finally. “You’ve been alone, and you won’t be alone any more.”

Tsukiko gazed at the card.

“And who will be with me?”

“You ask too many questions,” said Isobel, but she gave a small smile. “I could draw another card, if you like. I don’t mind asking that question.”

Tsukiko held up her hand.

“I’ve taken enough of your time. You’ve other customers.”

Isobel glanced to the door of her tent, where the shadows told her that a line formed outside, though she could hear no voices. If she opened the flap, she would—the tents were curious, in that way, but here, she often forgot that she and her clients were not alone. How did Tsukiko know, when she’d been facing—

Isobel bowed her head.

“Come back again sometime,” she said, finally. “I am curious to hear more of the story.”

Tsukiko’s eyebrows raised, and she left the tent.


End file.
